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A Hard Lesson to Learn
::Wedgecrest ---- ::The town of Wedgecrest sits on the northern height of a cliff overlooking Fastheld Gorge, through which the river passes as it arcs around a tall knob of granite called Night's Bane - a smooth-sloped hill that exceeds the cliff by about thirty feet, imbued with flecks of minerals that glimmer under thelight of the sun, moons or stars. ::Wedgecrest was first settled three centuries ago, founded by Trastar Mikin, and the town seems to have all the earmarks of a Mikin borough: The architecture is all straight lines and sharp angles, somber and devoid of decoration, and where nature has sought to deprive Wedgecrest of amenities, Wedgecrest has cowed or outright brutalized nature into submission. ::Although a fine defensible position for the town, the cliff made it an unlikely port town, which threatened Wedgecrest's economic prospects. So Trastar Mikin leveled a fairly large chunk of the Wallwatch Wood for lumber used to build a series of angled walkways down the face of the cliff to the piers known as Wedgeport. ---- Zia stands amidst the buildings, shivering slightly and watching a pair of children play nearby. Ailith makes her way out of the tavern, looking out at the cold winter evening. One of the children scrambles up onto the steps of one of the buildings, screaming something at his brother and shaking a fist. "Getch ye down from there," their mother hisses through clenched teeth. Of course, both children ignore her. This Zia watches with interest. Ailith looks toward the noise, frowning a bit, then makes her way toward the stables. The mother gives Ailith a sheepish look, and returns to the attempt to scold her children. The older of the brothers--the one on the ground--seems completely engrossed in the play, which is quickly turning to a bicker. Picking up a rock, he hurls it at the smaller, slighter child. With a cry, the younger child tumbles from his perch and lies still on the ground. With a screech that causes several of the other pedestrians to look up from their business, she hurries to her son's side. By now, Zia seems to have lost interest in the squabble, and doesn't seem to notice the hurt child. Ailith lets the mother verify the status of her son. The Templar's attention is just on the rock-thrower. With a stony expression, the armored woman marches straight toward that boy as if the full weight of Imperial Justice is going to hit him when she reaches him. The rock-thrower backs away as he notices Ailith's stony gaze on him, wimpering softly something about "I dinnae mean it! 'onest!" He seems about to turn and flee, but a cry from his mother stops him in his tracks. "'ealer!" she calls, frantically. She's rolled the injured boy onto his back, and now it can be seen that blood seeps from his temple, and the young face has gone ashen. "'ealer!" she cries again. "Someone?" It's hard not to notice this turn of events, and now Zia turns, and spies the boy lying on his back in the dust. Her cloak swishing about her feet, she makes her way over to the pair. Ailith does not halt her approach - and if the boy does not bolt, will clamp an armored hand down on his shoulder. "You have done this. You will see what you have done." Barring resistance, she will force-march the boy back to the fallen child. And so Rock Thrower marches, stumbling and terrified-looking, towards his fallen brother with Ailith steering him on. "'m sorry," he whispers to his mother upon reaching her. The woman ignores her other son. Maternal instincts have completely taken over, and as long as she knows Rock Thrower is out of danger, her entire focus is on her injured child. Shoving aside various people in her way, Zia kneels at the mother's side and without even waiting for the parent's permission presses a corner of her cloak to the bleeding temple in an attempt to staunch the blood. "Are ye an 'ealer?" the mother asks in a raspy, whispery voice. Ailith shakes her head. "I am a soldier," she says. "Justice I can offer. Healing, I cannot." Though she's pretty definite about the justice part. Her gauntleted hand on the boy's shoulder means he's not going *anywhere*. And indeed he's not. Trembling, the boy probably wouldn't be able to move if an earthquake had tried to dislodge him, rooted to the ground in equal measure by Ailith, fear, and guilt. Discovering that Ailith is indeed -not- a healer--though she is keeping her other son in check quite nicely--the mother turns pleading eyes on Zia. "...Miss?" Zia shakes her head and pulls away the corner of her cloak to see if the bleeding's stopped. It hasn't. Blood still pulses from a vein and flows without even pausing down the face. Swearing, Zia glances up at Ailith. "Do you know where a healer is?" "No," Ailith admits. "I am a traveler, and unfamiliar with the people of this city. I am sorry." Zia grimaces. "Me too." Visibly thinking quickly, she forcefully moves the mother's hands onto her son's temple. "Hold that there--tightly now." Ducking out of her cloak, she stands up. "Can you help me find one?" she addresses Ailith. "He's losing a lot of blood. I'm no healer, but it could very well be too much." Turning, she starts to head for one of the side streets leading into other parts of the town--and almost runs into various members of the crowd. "Stay out of my way," she snaps at them. "No--don't just stand there. Go find a healer if you want to be helpful!" Bits of the crowd scatter, but for the most part they just stare at the mother and her child. Ailith does not go running about - perhaps the armor has something to do with that. But she *does* turn that bright, hard stare on the crowd. "Find. The. Healer," she snaps. "*Now*." The crowd scatters in different directions--most of them finding some excuse to be anywhere but outside right now. Not exactly helpful, but at least out from underfoot. Zia makes some grateful gesture to Ailith as her path is cleared, heading for the side street and looking down it. Nothing. The street ends abruptly as it hits the wall of some building. A dead end, with certainly no sign of a healer. Ailith sighs. "And these are the people lord Varal is proud of," she says sourly. "I had thought perhaps the Mikin zeal might be shared by their people." With an exasperated sigh, Ziavri turns away from the dead end and almost runs into a woman scampering about like a scared rabbit, apparently in search of a healer. With Zia's eyes on her, she cries something about going to find the healer and vanishes down another alleyway. Out of Zia's line of sight, an unwary man steps into the area. In his hand, he clutches a bag smelling faintly of various sorts of herbs. Completely unaware that he's supposed to be doing something useful at this moment, the surprised healer stands at the edge of the chaos and looks confused. Ailith gestures at him. "You there! A healer is required." The healer blinks. "Wha . . ?" Shaking his head, his face undergoes something that looks very much like a complete change of personality. Kindly features become stern as the knowledge of his duty seems to come to him. "Where?" is all he asks of Ailith, striding forward into the crowd. Spying Ailith and the healer now, Zia stops searching and heads towards the two. "Can you heal?" she demands of the healer. Ailith indicates the bleeding child. "There is work for a healer. This one," and her other hand tightens on the rock thrower's shoulder, "Throws stones." "Mm hmm." The healer nods curtly, giving Rock Thrower a deliberate glare that makes the child cower. The expression on his face says he'd like to give the boy a piece of his mind, but hasn't the time to do it now. Following Ailith's indication, he spies the child on the ground and strides quickly over to the mother and child. Zia's already made her way there, kneeling again beside the mother, whose hands are covered in blood where it has soaked through the cloth of the cloak. The mother's hands are trembling, but to her credit she's kept it together well enough that the pressure is still firm. Not that it seems to have done a lot of good. She scrambles out of the way as the healer comes over, giving him room to work. Ailith doesn't let up on that argentite grip a jot. "You will watch," she says to the rock thrower. "And remember." Rock Thrower swallows--hard--and nods. "A-aye, M-m-m'lady." On his knees in the dust, now, the healer peels away the blood-soaked cloak, using a water skin at his side to try and wash away some of the blood that sticks it to the skin. Underneath the cloth, the wound has turned purple around the edges and still bleeds freely. Now that someone else who knows what they're doing is taking care of her child, the mother relaxes enough to wail. Zia touches her hand and urges her to be quiet. As Rock Thrower watches in repulsion at his own deed, the healer takes a pouch of some greenish powder, smelling strongly of herbs, and pours a little into a small wooden dish. Stirring it with his finger, he adds several other ingredients until the result is a foul-smelling goop that clings to his fingers. Moving quickly, he pastes it on the wound and wraps a bandage tightly around the child's head. "There," he mutters, satisfied. "Take him home, give him plenty of rest. Don't let him up again for at least a week, he's lost a lot of blood. Feed him warm foods, and -don't- throw any more rocks at him." This said, the healer turns a reproachful eye on Rock Thrower, who looks distinctly guilty and squirms in Ailith's grip. Ailith nods. Then turns to the mother. "He is a child, but this is a crime," she says. "Shall I give mercy, or justice?" The mother turns her eyes on Ailith, large and pleading. "Donae 'urt 'im, M'lady. Please, he dinnae mean it . . . I c'n see that 'e ne'er does it again." Leaving the mother to plead with Ailith, Zia turns to the doctor. "He'll be all right, then?" The doctor nods. "Aye, if he's kept to rest a while, and doesn't lose any more blood." Ailith tightens her hand still more on that boy's shoulder. "You saw what you have done," she tells him. "How much grief you have caused your family. And your mother still pleads for you. Remember that, as well." And then, she releases her grip on the child. "It may well be that she will not be able to plead for you twice." And then, she moves to remove her tabard, tucking it into her pack, and throws back her cloak so that she can pick up the injured boy with great care. "Show me where to take him." Rock Thrower scrambles hastily away from Ailith with a half-swallowed "Aye!" and clings to his mother's cloak. Ignoring him (there's more pressing matters at hand), she manages to get to her feet. "Th-this way, Lady," she murmurs, and starts off towards a small house. With muttered thanks, Zia reaches into her pocket and passes a coin to the healer. Ducking his head in acknowledgment, he bids her make sure that the child is well taken care of, and goes off on whatever business he had before all this happened. Ailith carries the injured child where indicated, without complaint. When able, she will lie him down with care. Gratefully, the mother leads Zia and Ailith into her home, her arm around Rock Thrower's shoulders. Her hand still trembles slightly. "Here, M'lady," she murmurs, indicating a cot in the far corner of the room. "Thank ye. Thank ye. Bes there naught 'at I could do--t' repay ye?" Ailith shakes her head, and arranges the boy carefully on the cot. "Tell me the name of the healer," she says. "So that payment can be sent to him." Ailith and Zia are /actually/ inside a woman's house, tending to a newly injured boy. Outside, the remnants of chaos are evident: people mill about, chattering and exchanging experiences, in that state people get into shortly after something's happened to jostle up their lives. Inside, Zia shakes her head. "I didn't catch it," she says. "He's been paid." Retrieving her blood-stained cloak from the mother, she fastens it again about her shoulders and relays the healer's instructions again to the mother--just to make sure they've hit home. To Ailith, she says, "Thanks for the help, M'lady." Lucius Nepos exits into Wedgecrest from the tavern, chewing on a chunk of bread still. He has a relaxed look on his face until it becomes evident that something's happened. Looking around, he locates one of the town's guardsmen and approaches him. "What happened?" He asks, stopping near the equally short man. Ailith nods. "Well enough, then," she agrees, and takes her leave of the family. Once out in the street, she takes a cloth from her pack to get the road dust and blood from carrying the boy off her armor. "Dunno," the man answers Lucius cheefully. "But it 'twere might excitin'." This said, he goes on to tell some tale about a healer having to have been called, and something to do with a mother and two little boys, a rock, an armored woman, and, strangely enough, his wife who apparently died two years ago. Exchanging a final comforting word with the mother, whose name is still unknown, Zia, too, leaves the house and reemerges into the open air, looking a little tired now, and a little bit blood-stained. "Eh?" Lucius replies simply, blinking at the guardsman. "Where are these lads and ladies now?" "One lad is treated and unconscious in his bed," says Ailith. Now that her armor's cleaned, she takes out her tabard again to put over it. "One lad has had the terror of the law put into him. And one mother is out of her mind with worry." Now that she's outside again, and the chaos has mostly died down, Zia seems to remember that it's cold and shivers. With a sigh, she makes her way over to Ailith and Lucius in time to catch Ailith's last remark. "In short," she says, "everybody's been taken care of to varying degrees. The boy will be fine, and I think he and his brother both have learned a lesson today." "What happened?" Lucius asks, more out of curiosity than anything else. He turns towards the carpenter and the Ordinator. Ailith settles her tabard in place. "A boy threw a rock at the head of his brother and nearly killed him," says Ailith calmly. "Most of the people ran away rather than try to find a healer." Zia nods agreement. "Aye. A rock is not a weapon to be toyed with--simple as it is. This is the consequences of toying with it anyway." She shakes her head. "Children's bickering, but I suspect that there won't be a repeat occurance. Now, if you'll excuse me?" She backs away from the other two, starting off in a northerly direction. "Ah, I see." Lucius's interest appears to wane a bit. "Well, I'm sure they'll come out on top. S'more of a family matter, anyways, since no one was killed. Time to be off now, I s'spect as well. Light keep you m'lady, mistress." He dips his head at Ailith. Ailith returns Lucius' nod. "Light keep you," she agrees. ---- Return to Season 7 (2008) Category:Dialogues